Caught in Sleep
by uuughhh
Summary: Merlin keeps falling asleep and instead of being annoyed at the utter incompetence of his manservant, Arthur finds himself struck by concern.
1. Pretences and Wariness

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

_Author's Note: Just got into Merlin. Hurt!Merlin and Guilty!Arthur is my absolute favorite, so expect a bit of that._

* * *

At first, the fact that Merlin was falling asleep randomly was terribly inconvenient. Not to mention improper. So you can imagine Arthur's reaction when he walked in on Merlin seated on _his _chair in _his_ room with _his_ bed sheets strewn across the bed and along the floor. Face smashed against his desk, snoring softly.

Needless to say, it was mildly satisfying when Merlin was startled awake by Arthur's clearing of his throat, startled to the point where the other boy had fallen out of the chair and ended up sprawled by Arthur's feet. It had also been mildly concerning at just how utterly disoriented Merlin had been, but Arthur figured the boy had merely stayed up all night doing…whatever it is Merlin did whenever he wasn't tending to the prince.

Thoroughly embarrassed, and still a bit sluggish, Arthur watched – now seated in _his_ chair – as Merlin called him an annoying prat with no regards to anyone but himself and made his bed. Arthur had replied, in turn, calling Merlin lazy and incompetent. The usual banter.

Save for the fact that Arthur could tell, as he usually was able, that Merlin's usual energy had diminished considerably. Despite the small nap the boy had decided to take in his chair.

Come to think of it, and Arthur had gone on musing about his friend well after Merlin had stormed out to fetch him his lunch, the fact that Merlin had fallen asleep in what seemed like mid-action, it didn't seem likely that Merlin had decided to take a nap so much as pretty much just passed out.

Of course, it simply meant that Merlin needed more sleep and sure enough, Arthur would have a stern talking with Merlin once the other returned, about time management and just what was unacceptable when it came to performing as a manservant to the prince.

* * *

The second time Arthur found Merlin, apparently having randomly fallen asleep once more, it was at the bottom of the stairs, Arthur's armor scattered across the floor by the steps. At first, and Arthur wouldn't admit it later, his heart had jumped to his throat because of Merlin's position – had the clumsy idiot _fallen_ and _broken his neck_?

Building himself up to a frenzy because here lay his dead manservant, Arthur had been about to call the guards, or Gaius, or maybe even his father, because surely the King had enough authority to call back someone from the dead – and that's probably when his thoughts were reaching into the realm of hysteria – Merlin had let out a snore.

Thoroughly peeved, concern diminishing into annoyance and frustration, Arthur had nudged the sleeping boy's side with his foot, eyes narrowed.

This time, Merlin didn't wake quite as quickly as he'd in his room two days prior, but rather, it took quite a bit of nudges with his foot and then calling out, "Merlin!" in a very calm, not at all sort of worried tone, for the other boy to shift and groan, eyes opening slowly.

It was relatively difficult for Arthur to maintain the glare in his expression when Merlin was looking up at him as if he barely recognized him, confused and muddled and squinting at Arthur as if he were a dragon. It was relatively difficult, actually, for Arthur to keep from picking Merlin up off the ground and giving him a good shake. And also, maybe, calling Gaius to demand why his manservant was falling asleep in the middle of the hallway, at the bottom of the stairs.

Later, once Merlin had shuffled away, mumbling colorful offending language with his arms full of the armor he'd dropped, Arthur would have to keep himself from shuddering at the prospect of Merlin having fallen asleep at the top of the stairs, in mid-step.

Concern melted back into the annoyance, and Arthur wondered if maybe he should have a talk with Gaius.

Well, he probably didn't have to. Merlin would probably get some proper sleep now that Arthur had given him a proper lecture about not falling asleep in places that weren't in his own bed.

Hopefully.

* * *

When Arthur walked into the stables to see exactly what it was that was taking Merlin an entire three hours to clean muck up that usually only took him about an hour or so, he was mildly surprised at himself for _still_ being surprised that Merlin had fallen asleep. Another one of those bouts he'd been having, then.

Annoyed, mostly because the stables didn't even look liked Merlin had started, Arthur had stomped – fairly loudly – over to Merlin and grabbed the other boy by the wrist, to tug him up off the haystack.

The annoyance disappeared as soon as it'd risen up, replaced by something akin to fear when Arthur realized that Merlin was _cold_. Like, well, a corpse. Eyes widening slightly, as Arthur noticed that Merlin was taking very, very slow breaths, he shifted his grasp, crouching a bit, to Merlin's wrist.

His own heart nearly thudded to a stop when he couldn't find what should've been a pounding pulse. Rather, fingers pressing a bit harder on the other boy's wrist, Arthur found a faint, irregular pulse, almost as if Merlin's heart were skipping every other beat.

Later, Arthur would compare Merlin's heartbeat to that of a knight losing too much blood, too quickly. To that of a knight that Arthur knew he was losing.

At the moment, however, Arthur found himself speaking, voice coming out in a much higher pitch than intended, but no need for anyone to know about that.

"Merlin! Merlin!? Wake up, this isn't funny!"

Merlin groaned, shifting and wrist turning in Arthur's grasp, but as the other boy started to awake, the pulse started picking up, increasing in pace and strength – back to that of a healthy, living, not dying boy.

"A-Arthur? Arthur, what..?"

Arthur was still holding Merlin's wrist when his manservant came to altogether, blinking at Arthur sleepily and confusedly and Arthur didn't let go of the other boy's wrist even after he'd gotten Merlin to his feet, steering him all the way to Gaius' chambers.

* * *

"He's been falling asleep nonstop and it's very inconvenient! He gets nothing done or everything done very late and you must do something about it, Gaius, this is getting ridiculous and out of hand!" Arthur's voice was loud and back to being aggravated, as Merlin sat in the chair by the table.

Even as Arthur stood next to him, he could see Merlin nodding off, starting to doze, and he forgot about the rant he'd been on, worry spiking at the idea of Merlin starting to _die_ again because that was clearly what had been happening earlier and it wasn't that Merlin was falling asleep - he was _dying_ and, completely ignoring Gaius, Arthur picked Merlin's wrist up with one hand, maneuvering in front of Merlin. His other hand came up to lightly pat Merlin's cheek, and Arthur was once again struck by just how suddenly cold the other boy had gotten – as if touching a _corpse_, and that sent enough chills down Arthur's spine to last at least three months.

"Merlin? Merlin, you with me? Merlin, stay awake, wake up! Gaius!" Merlin's eyelids were flickering, as if the other were trying to stay awake, and in a last attempt, Arthur looked at the elder healer desperately, eyes wide.

Gaius stepped into action, eyebrows furrowing in both concern and confusion, and batted Arthur away and back, providing Merlin with his full attention.

Arthur stood, watching Merlin as if his friend were fading – which he very well might be, and felt that very same fear – maybe even terror – at the idea of Merlin not waking up this time around.

* * *

"Is it sorcery, Gaius? Some kind of witchcraft?" Arthur wasn't sure why he was whispering, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that if he actually used his voice it would probably shake.

Gaius gave Arthur a very strange look, one that Arthur couldn't quite discern, and then looked back at Merlin.

"Sire, perhaps you should leave."

That was neither an answer or an explanation and thoroughly unreassuringly stated. Which of course, prompted Arthur to straighten up a bit and step closer to Merlin, the servant still snoring uselessly.

It really did just seem as though the other were sleeping. Despite the temperature of his skin and erratic heartbeat.

"So it is sorcery then? We must tell my father." Arthur declared, with as much authority as he could muster into his tone. At least _there_ was something he had control over.

"Shut up, 'thur," came a mumble from the couch and Arthur glanced over at his friend, shifting and rubbing at his eyes as he sat up.

"Merlin, my boy," Gaius softened his voice considerably, moving to Merlin's side and pressing the back of his hand to Merlin's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better now, thanks," Merlin answered, before stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

Feeling a bit out of his element, as if caught doing something he perhaps shouldn't be, Arthur folded his arms over his chest.

"What is wrong with you, Merlin? I demand that you tell me." His tone was petulant and even Arthur wanted to wince at the sound of it.

Merlin's impossibly blue gaze caught his own and Merlin stared at him a bit confusedly.

"Nothing, sire." Merlin replied slowly, and Gaius shifted to Arthur's right.

"I'm not stupid, Merlin," Arthur let the annoyance creep into his tone. "You have been fainting all over the place and you go cold and your pulse-" Arthur cut himself off, feeling as though he'd given too much away.

Merlin was giving him a look now, and it was quite like the one Gaius had given him earlier. Except, on Merlin's face, Arthur recognized it as careful, assessing.

Almost distrustful.

"I'm fine, Arthur." Merlin said, and thoroughly exasperated with the entire situation, Arthur dropped his arms and clenched his fists.

"You better well be, or I'll see to it that you're put in the stocks."

With that, Arthur pushed the nagging thoughts to the back of his mind, turned on his heel and stomped out of Gaius' chambers.

Fine, like _he_ cared anyway.

* * *

**Please review, it would mean a lot! **


	2. Denial and Distress

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

_Author's note: This is a chaptered fic! I, uh, wanted it to be a one-shot initially, but it kind of got away from me. So did the plot. Thank you for the wonderful reviews! _

* * *

It was dinner and Arthur was seated in his desk, tapping his fork lightly to his plate as Merlin maneuvered along his room, picking up items littering the floor.

Arthur let his gaze follow his friend around, trying to assess Merlin's state of mind. The other didn't seem quite so tired today, but he certainly didn't look to be his usual energetic self as of yet.

After the stint in the stable, Arthur had refused Merlin's services for two days, simply to let the other rest. It seemed as though Arthur had made the right choice.

Still, Merlin was a bit too pale for his liking. If anything, Arthur wanted to tell his friend to set down his armor and take a seat. Which, of course, he couldn't do.

So he settled for eying Merlin warily and taking a bite out of his bread roll.

"Stop looking at me like that, Arthur," Merlin finally said, as if he could sense Arthur's gaze penetrating the back of his head as the servant made his bed.

"Just making sure you don't drop asleep and make a mess," Arthur snapped, sounding more irritated than he'd intended.

Merlin smoothed out the sheets and then sighed, straightening up and turning to face the prince, an equally irritated expression on his face.

"I'm _fine_, Arthur," Merlin said, tone daring for Arthur to argue with him.

"I wasn't asking," Arthur shot back, wondering why his altercations with Merlin had to be so complicated.

"You're fretting so much you are going to give me hives, _sire_."

No longer hungry, Arthur pushed back his tray and fixed Merlin with a glare.

"I am _not_ fretting, you idiot."

"Just admit-" Merlin broke off into a yawn, palm pressing to his lips and Arthur's instincts spiked slightly, as he got to his feet.

"Merlin?" And his tone had gone from steely to questioning in an instant, moving away from his desk towards his manservant.

Merlin gave him somewhat of an annoyed look, yawning once more and stepping back towards Arthur's bed.

"Just a bit tired, sire."

"I _know_ that, Merlin."

There's a pause and Arthur steps closer towards Merlin, who's getting gradually paler, and not bothering to stop and think about it, Arthur gently grasped his manservant by the elbow, guiding him over to sit on the edge of his bed.

"I'm not one of your-" Arthur would have been amused as Merlin's words got lost in another yawn, if he hadn't felt Merlin's skin getting colder.

Some part of Arthur comes up with the ridiculous idea that maybe he's overworking his stupid manservant, but Merlin lets out another yawn and Arthur replaces that thought with thinking about getting Gaius.

"What's wrong with you?" This time, when Arthur asks it, it's not demanding and annoyed, but rather soft.

Merlin's only offered response is a soft thudding as his friend falls back onto his bed and starts snoring lightly.

* * *

Arthur's managed to get Merlin into a position where he's actually able to lie down next to his servant. Having had called Gaius earlier, the elder man had only checked Merlin's temperature and not answered Arthur's pressing questions about how sorcery might be involved.

Of course, at the mention of having the guards carry Merlin back to his own room, Arthur had refused. After all, it was only fitting that Merlin stay with Arthur because…well, he'd get to whatever the reason was later.

For now however, it was getting late, and Merlin wasn't as cold as he'd been before, and Arthur just hoped his stupid fool of a servant didn't kick in his sleep.

Or, well, die.

All in all, Arthur didn't get much sleep that night, settling for jolting awake every so often to make sure Merlin's pulse was still going.

* * *

The morning found Arthur lying alone in bed, waking up to the soft crackling of fire. Which was odd, considering it wasn't at all freezing throughout the night and—

Where was Merlin?

The question rudely interrupted his course of thoughts and Arthur sat up abruptly. Merlin's name caught in his throat as the prospect of his servant actually lying at the bottom of the stairs with his neck broken flew to the front of the prince's mind.

"Merlin? Merlin!?" Of course that was indignant and righteous anger in his tone, not anxiety and—

"Don't shout, you arse. I'm right here."

Arthur twisted around on his bed only to find Merlin seated by the fire, warming his hands and giving Arthur a cynical stare over his arms.

Feeling a bit put out, and maybe exposed, Arthur threw off his sheets and got to his feet.

"You passed out again," he stated loudly, as if Merlin hadn't been right there when it had happened.

Merlin gave him a blank look.

"I fell asleep."

A pause, and Arthur found himself struggling a bit to find the words to call Merlin an idiot and also to properly convey his feelings without sounding like- well, like _Gwen_.

"You were cold again. You wouldn't wake." Arthur wished he hadn't gotten up because now he was awkwardly towering over Merlin, who was looking up at him from where he was seated, the servant's expression a bit amused. "I thought I gave you enough days off for this to have passed. I should throw you to the dungeons. What kind of servant falls asleep on their master's bed? I'm the prince! This cannot keep happening so I demand you tell me what is the matter this very instant!"

Arthur realized a moment too late that instead of sounding stern and like his father, he sounded as though he was whining about a pet dog that wouldn't cease urinating on his carpet.

Well, fitting all the same.

Merlin rolled his eyes, which Arthur would later point out to an empty room was _thoroughly_ disrespectful, and got to his feet.

"It isn't you, Arthur. The workload is fine." Merlin waved his hand a bit and the fire flickered, catching Arthur's attention.

"Why on earth do you have the fire going anyway? It's positively smoldering in here."

At that, Merlin looked a bit sheepish, rubbing his arm almost absently.

"I was cold."

Ah. That was it then. Merlin was simply just coming down with something. All these were just symptoms of some kind of…flu and Merlin simply had a fever and it wasn't some dark sorcery that was sucking out Merlin's very life from within him.

What a relief.

Arthur stalked over to Merlin, who'd gotten to his own feet at this point and was putting out the fire, and pressed the back of his hand to Merlin's face. Merlin made a soft noise of surprise, and Arthur figures he'd probably have done the same had someone else walked up to him and smacked his forehead.

Merlin was freezing. And also, staring at Arthur like he'd grown horns. Arthur is pretty sure he hadn't, he'd probably know, and dropped his hand because Merlin didn't have a fever.

"Arthur?" Merlin questioned, carefully, and Arthur let his thoughts dwell back on the fact that maybe some fevers made people cold instead of hot. They might not be called fevers, though.

"You're sick," Arthur stated, and Merlin rolled his eyes, _again_.

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

"It's far more than that, Merlin."

There's a moment where Merlin finds Arthur's gaze with his own and Arthur is overwhelmed by the calculation in those blue eyes. He knew Merlin had his moments of wisdom and clarity but such lucidity, coming from a boy who'd been doing a fair amount of falling asleep all over the place, threw Arthur off a bit.

"I'll go grab your breakfast," Merlin replied, turning his head away and looking to the door. Arthur felt an odd sense of loss and associated it with the fact that he'd barely gotten any sleep last night.

"I'll call for the guards to send someone else."

Merlin's eyes met Arthur's again, this time with confusion mixed into the blue.

"I'm not an invalid."

"Rather, you quite are."

Merlin's eyes narrowed and Arthur let himself feel satisfied.

"Do I get the day off then, _sire_?" Merlin asked, sarcasm lacing his tone, and Arthur crossed his arms.

He didn't much like the idea of letting Merlin wander off on his own. At least not until he knew what exactly it was that was wrong with his manservant.

He had a _right_ to know.

"No. I'm calling Gaius. Sit down before you keel over," Arthur added, starting towards the door only to have Merlin grasp at his wrist, stopping him.

When Arthur looked back at Merlin, the other boy looked a bit panicked.

"No, it's fine," he said, too quickly.

Merlin's reaction was odd, considering Gaius had been assessing Merlin's health for the past few days without Merlin protesting.

Fed up with this little loop he was _clearly_ being left out of, Arthur wrenched his hand away from Merlin's grip.

"What is _wrong_ with you? It's obviously something and the pair of you seem to have some kind of inkling as to what it is, and I demand to be told the truth. I have a right to know."

Merlin raised his eyebrow and Arthur was minutely pleased to see some color flush into the other boy's cheeks, whether it be with anger or whatever other emotion. The less pale Merlin was, the better.

"You have a right to know," Merlin deadpanned, and Arthur supposes that if Merlin's tone hadn't been so dry, it may have been a very rhetorical question. Arthur graces it with an answer anyway.

"I have every right to know."

Merlin's rolling his eyes again and Arthur turns back towards the door, calling out, "Guards?"

"No, no, wait, you prat," Merlin hissed, grabbing the back of Arthur's nightshirt, tugging him back. "Don't!"

Relatively insulted that _Merlin_ was giving him orders, Arthur whipped around and opened his mouth to lecture the other boy only to hear a knocking on the door, one of the guards questioning for Arthur's wellbeing.

A pause and Merlin is looking far more helpless than he had been the entire ordeal.

Arthur settles for replying with "Bring up two trays of breakfast," and Merlin visibly relaxes.

Arthur fixed Merlin with a stare and stepped closer to Merlin, almost threateningly. Merlin stepped back, going from relieved to mildly wary and Arthur pressed his palm to Merlin's chest, pushing the servant back forcefully.

Merlin fell onto the bed, letting out a small yelp and then looked up at Arthur, guardedly.

"You will tell me what is going on with you, then. Or would you rather I relieve you of your duties entirely?" Merlin doesn't look too bothered by his words and Arthur tries not to bristle. "And tell Gaius why you were in my bed last night."

Merlin flushed then, looking a bit angry at the blackmail. It's not like Arthur had a choice, though, really.

"It really is _nothing_, Arthur."

"It's sorcery, isn't it?"

The words leave Arthur's mouth before he bothered processing them and there's a pause.

Merlin goes pale, almost ashen, and Merlin jerks his head up, looking at Arthur almost frenziedly.

He'd hit it right on the gold then. Overcome with a sudden sort of fury, Arthur stepped forward and grasped Merlin by the shoulders, looking down at him. Arthur tried not to focus on the way Merlin went even paler, eyes widening with a certain fear that Arthur couldn't place.

But he couldn't be bothered with any of that at the moment.

"Who did it to you?"

It felt as though Arthur's veins were trembling with rage. How _dare_ a sorcerer curse his manservant – his dearest friend? How _did_ Merlin manage to get himself into such situations? Had Merlin simply taken the hit for something directed at him, as per usual?

The terror on Merlin's face said it all, of course it was sorcery, until it was replaced with confusion.

"Er, what?"

Arthur let go of Merlin, taking a step back because, well, just because.

"You've been cursed, have you not?"

Merlin looked even more confused, and Arthur felt that maybe he'd gotten a bit too ahead of himself. If not a curse, then what could it be? How else would sorcery affect Merlin in this way?

As Arthur stood there, trying to piece it together, Merlin averted his gaze and got back to his feet. Merlin looked conflicted, and Arthur watched as the other swayed a bit on his feet, lips parting.

"Merlin?"

Reaching out an arm to steady his friend, Arthur stepped closer again, only to catch Merlin as the other boy crumpled, eyes rolling back into his head.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat, _oh god I killed him_, only to hear Merlin's breathing even out slowly.

Well. That went well.

* * *

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